


Heaven in her smile

by ShadeDuelist



Series: Modern TF2 universe ('Bolt of Lightning'/'Sinner's Fire') [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Based on chapter 9 of 'Like a bolt of lightning', go check it out - if you haven't yet read it and plan to, don't read this, it'll spoil a major event)</p><p>The tale of a night of indulgence.  She is drunk and uninhibited, and he... can't help that he wants her.  Only to find out that maybe he wants a lot more than what she'll give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven in her smile

They were a tangle of limbs as they stumbled back to her room, both drunk.  She had her arms around his waist trying to hold herself upright, giggling about some joke he had just told, and he grinned like an idiot.

“Sooo... we're here...”, she said, arriving at the door to her room, licking her lips – he noticed that sign of insecurity and his drunk mind turned it into something else.  She had aroused him even before that day, but he had kept it in check, knowing she was hurt emotionally and giving her time to mend.  However, inebriated as he was himself, his body mutinied and he blushed as he felt himself react to her proximity and her ambiguous signals.

“Yeah... now, is ev'rything gonna be okay?  Or should I tuck you in, hun?”, he asked, and she shrugged.

“'S fine either way...”  She clumsily unlocked the door, walking into the slightly disorganised room and practically falling onto her bed, kicking off her shoes in the process.  “Ooooh...  I feel dizzzzy...”

“That's alcohol for ya...”, he said sheepishly, standing beside the bed – and then she lifted her shirt over her head, exposing her lacy bra, and his throat went dry.  “Oh fuck... I-”, he started, but she shook her head vehemently as she took off her skirt, laying splayed out on the bed in only her underwear.

“You weren't ashamed before, how come you're suddenly ashamed now, hm?  Now are you taking those clothes off yourself or do you need a helping hand?”  He couldn't reply, dumbstruck by her utter openness and lack of inhibitions.  Some far off part of his brain registered how it was wrong to use the situation – somewhere, he realised by her words that she had her roommate in mind when speaking to him – but as she rose from the bed, pressing her semi-naked body against him, pulling his shirt over his head, his hands got a mind of their own, wandering to her hips to preserve their close contact.

“...Ah... Are you sure?”, he asked faintly, subconsciously trying to resist, and she then kissed him sensuously, with the sloppy passion only being drunk could bring out in a person, and his heart raced in his ears as they moved to the bed, losing what little items of clothing they still had on.

He found his breath to tingle in his lungs and his senses acute, her scent and taste sweet and evocative of ripe fruit – of the golden shine of summer, of love, of heaven.  Her every touch sent shivers down his spine in pure ecstasy .  They were slow, the alcohol clouding their minds and hindering their ability to move properly, but the contact between her and him sent his mind soaring and he found time slow down in his mind, every second becoming an eternity of joy.  He felt alive, his every nerve tingling, his every sensation sharp and satisfying, his every breath precious and the blood thundering in his ears.

“...Mmmm...”, she moaned, tangling her hands in his hair, moving the both of them into a more comfortable position, and he moaned as well, burying his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her, eager to taste more, smell more, feel more...  Her hands were soft on his skin, and the heat radiating off her – the blush her cheeks and her shoulders had – were enough to cause him to blush as well.  Then, before he even realised it, he was gripping her hips as she straddled him, moving over him slowly, her every breath coming in half-moans, and he reacted in the same way, whispering sweet nothings in the silence of the night around them.

Then, at the height of their passion, he moaned her name – and she whispered not his name, but the name of her roommate – and the overwhelming feeling of being, of completeness, intensified everything, and he passed out just as she did, feeling at peace with the universe...

 

Of course that changed the next morning.  She pushed him from her bed, pushed him from her room, and he ran to the hallway that separated his part of the complex from hers, closing the door and putting on his clothes while his mind was in turmoil.  As he was fully dressed, he made his way to his own room, where his own roommate and lover sat waiting for him.

“Where the fuck ya been?!  I've been worryin' all night!”

“I...  I collapsed in the toilets, slept in there...  Don't worry... you get some breakfast, I just... need some sleep...”, he said mechanically, and if his lover had any suspicions he was lying, he didn't show it.

“Okay... ya mind if I watch some TV after breakfast?  's this documentary on 'bout the Second World War.”

“No... longer for me to sleep.”, he said, and his roommate left, closing the door behind him – at that moment, he flung himself onto his bed, face down, crying into his pillow.  He cried for an hour, until his pillow was soaked with tears and the taste of salt mingled with the bitter taste of gall on his tongue.  “Fuck it, fuck it... damn it all to fucking hell!  You shithead moronic asshole!  You knew she didn't want you... she wants him...  She'll never forgive you for this...  I killed our friendship, killed that happiness she gave me, I killed every fuckin' thing...  What the fuck is wrong with me!!”  As if to echo his own words, he faintly heard those same words in the hallway softly, in a harsh shout, and his heart gave a painful throb.  “I deserve to fucking die...”, he sighed, closing his eyes and drifting off to a nightmare-filled sleep.

 

That night, he awoke with a start – the even breathing of his roommate told him it was deep in the night and the silence in the hall meant everybody else was already asleep.  He went barefoot through the halls, first moving to the kitchen where he downed a bottle of whisky one of his team's members kept in there – not even tasting the fine blended liquor – and then walking up to the door separating the two parts of the compound and leaning against it, the cold metal causing him to get goosebumps.

“I fuckin' wish I could turn back time...  I fuckin' wish I didn't...  I... God-fuckin'-damn it all to hell...”, he cursed, looking at the cloudy night through a window at the end of the hallway, hurting so badly not even the alcohol drowned it out...


End file.
